


all the reasons have run away (but the feeling never did)

by obsessivelymoody



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Descriptions of Anxiety, Descriptions of depression, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2020-09-25 07:48:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20373226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/obsessivelymoody/pseuds/obsessivelymoody
Summary: Dan decides to run in the London Marathon.





	all the reasons have run away (but the feeling never did)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [commonemergency](https://archiveofourown.org/users/commonemergency/gifts).

> This is a gift to the lovely [Cait](http://nihilismdan.tumblr.com/) <3 I have a distinct memory of hearing how touched and excited you were when Dan was telling his story at the night of awful. I instantly filed that moment away as something to revisit, and it didn't feel right for me to write anything to do with Dan running and not have it be in your honour. I hope you enjoy, and I hope your birthday is even half as wonderful as you are <3

Dan’s lungs are burning. 

He tastes the metallic tang of blood in his mouth, and he honestly wishes he was dead. 

He’s cold and uncomfortable and _wet_, and he’s cursing everyone who’s ever told him running and exercise will make you warm up, make it so you don’t feel the cold when you’re running in the middle of bloody winter. 

Phil, as supportive and encouraging as he’s been, would tell Dan that he’s crazy to take this on right now anyway, that there’s no harm in quitting now. He wouldn’t mean it with mal intent, either. He just doesn’t want to see Dan push himself too hard. (Because he would. For this, he absolutely would. And he knows he will anyway.)

Dan’s not quitting, though. Sure it’s only been two weeks since he proposed the idea to Phil, but he’s not turning back now. Not when the memory of signing up is still fresh in his mind, and the smile Phil gave him after he made his decision burned into the back of his eyelids. 

*

“I think I want to run.” 

Dan’s wearing two layers and has a blanket on his lap when he says this. He’s sat at his computer, leaning back in the desk chair and staring at the screen. He’s not really looking at it, the website loaded on screen a blur of red and white. Heavy rain beats down against the flat, pounding especially violently against the skylight. 

Phil twists from where he’s sat on the sofa, looking over at him.

“What, like, right now?” Phil says. “Bit late and like, cold for a run, isn’t it?” 

“No,” Dan laughs. The sound echoes, like the noise didn’t actually come from him and instead is drifting up from the street through an open window. “I mean I want to run in the London Marathon.”

“Oh.”

Dan swivels in his chair, fully looking over at Phil who shuts his laptop. “When is it?” 

“End of April. I could run for Young Minds. Or Cancer Research UK is already registered on the website.” 

Phil gets up and walks over to Dan, leaning over his shoulder to look at the website open on his desktop. “That’s really nice. Lots of work though, running a marathon.” 

“I’ll train.” 

“I know.” Phil scrolls through the page, clicking around. He stops at the sign up page. “You should do it, if you want to.” 

“I do,” he says. “I think—I think it should be good.” 

Phil smiles. “I think so too.” 

*

Young Minds agrees to sponsor his place in the marathon. 

Ideas immediately swarm Dan’s mind when he gets the confirmation email. He’s buzzing with elation. Everything is falling into place.

Phil says this calls for a pizza celebration. He even orders from the vegan place Dan likes. 

“I’m proud of you,” Phil says as they eat. “It’s not easy, doing something like that.”

Dan snorts. “Yeah, you’re telling me.” 

“And I think you’re brave,” he continues, ignoring Dan’s facetious comment. “You’re so brave to do something like this.”

It’s not the first time Phil’s told him as much, and he knows it won’t be the last. He’s grateful for that; the support makes the process easier. 

The next day Dan steps out of his comfort zone and tells their friends and family his plans. He feels uncomfortable the entire time, but it gets easier. No one judges him. No one mocks him (well, besides Bryony, but Dan had honestly expected that). It’s _nice_. He feels seen and supported. 

He waits on telling the internet, though. They can know when the whole thing is over, whether he succeeds or fails, or maybe not at all depending on the outcome.

Dan surprises even himself by shooting a quick text to his brother, letting him know what he’s doing and if he has any basic tips. He thinks he’s treading on thin ice, opening himself up to be ridiculed in the way that only younger siblings and self-righteous white boys can pull off, but he likes to give his brother the benefit of the doubt. (In the end, he’s thankful he does. He hasn’t felt this connected to his brother in almost a decade). 

He saves calling his mum for last. He tells himself it’s because she’s usually doing this or that for work, and that interrupting her day isn’t worth it for something like this. But really, as soon as he tells her, the panic for why he pushed off talking to her starts to bubble. 

There’s a pause on the other end of the call. He gets up from where he was perched on the edge of the sofa and paces around the lounge. Dan thinks he goes through every human emotion possible until his mum speaks again. 

“Really darling?” 

His heart sinks. There’s shock in her tone. He knows she thinks it’s going to be one of those things he gives up on after a few weeks of working on it. Just another thing to add to the pile of unfinished projects. 

“What,” Dan laughs, hoping it masks the fact that he knows his voice is ready to break. “You don’t think I can do it?” 

“No! No,” her tone softens. “I think you’ll be brilliant, Dan. I just didn’t expect it from you. Your brother, yes, but you’ve never expressed an interest in running.” 

“People change.”

“That they do. And I think it’s lovely that you’re doing this, truly.” 

Dan sucks in a breath before replying. “Yeah, mum?” 

“Yes, Daniel. I’m very proud of you.” 

It’s not that she doesn’t say things like that very often but—she doesn’t say things like that very often. They’re just not that kind of family, so it hits Dan hard, his chest swelling with emotion. 

“Thanks mum. Hope I can keep it up.” 

“Just don’t do anything illegal and you’ll be just fine.” 

He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I’ll try not to.”

*

Sometimes, the running feels like a lot more than a goal or training. 

There are days when he doesn’t want to get out of bed, let alone get dressed and leave the house. Dan lets himself have those days. He knows he should. But on some of those days he forces himself up, pulling on whatever clothes he grabs first and grabbing a bottle of water. Sometimes on those days the only thing he does is run before collapsing back in bed or at the bottom of the shower until the water runs cold or Phil comes in to make sure he’s okay.

But he runs. And on those days he runs for more. He thinks he runs from himself, from what the day could have been. 

It’s taken him a long time to train himself to not take these days as failures or setbacks. He knows that they aren’t, and nine times out of ten he believes it. But when he runs, he wonders if he actually does believe it. Would he be running this fast, this long, this _intensely_ on these days if the thought that without running they would count as failures didn’t linger in the back of his mind? 

He doesn’t know. Something to file in the back of his mind for his next therapy session, he supposes. 

What he does know, though, is that sometimes on these days something new builds up in that category of _more_. This, he has talked about in therapy. His therapist said that when you recognize something as an escape, and depending on how effective it is as that, your brain will naturally continue to use the escape for what it doesn’t want to deal with. Dan laughed at that. He found it funny that he’s literally trying to run away from his problems. (His therapist found it less so. She’s always trying to build him up to be more confrontational, more confident in his problem solving.)

Today, Dan is running from himself. He’s running to train, of course, he can’t afford to skip, not when the marathon is only a few months away. 

He woke up with the sun and a distinct numbness in his chest. He woke up as a husk of himself. 

But he still pushed himself out of bed, maybe taking triple the time it usually takes him to leave bed, and got ready as the sun started to shift bright and gold into their bedroom. He thinks it would have been pretty to watch, but it was already hard enough just trying to pull on socks, let alone go upstairs and sit in the lounge. 

And now he’s running. He hasn’t spoken to anyone yet. That’s something he’s grateful for in London. No one on the street wants to talk to you unless they’re preaching or trying to sell something. And Dan left the house early enough that no one’s really doing that yet; no use, really, the streets aren’t too busy yet. 

Dan knows the morning rush is well on its way, though, and if anything that actually _makes_ him feel something through the numbness, even if it’s dread at the idea of having to make polite small talk. 

For now he lets the dread simmer as he focuses on his run. 

On days when he doesn’t quite feel like himself, when simply existing and being a person is too much for him to handle, it’s easier to focus on the base level of his movements. His lungs taking in air with every laboured breath, the muscles in his feet and legs contracting and stretching with every step, the sweat slowly dripping down the back of his neck, cooling in the morning air. 

He knows when he stops running he’s going to have to deal with the numb feeling that still sits in his chest, and the feeling of not entirely knowing who he is. He knows as soon as he steps into the lift in the apartment building he’ll have to try to remember who _Dan_ is, what face to put on, which Dan that Phil needs today. It makes him dizzy just trying to think about it. So he runs, and focuses on his movements, on not smacking into anyone, on not getting hit by a car or cyclist. 

Running takes a lot of absent thought. Don’t run into this, avoid that, don’t step there. Sometimes it can be so overwhelming, all that absent thinking. Maybe that’s why Dan likes it so much. 

But really, he doesn’t know. He just knows that running makes these days more bearable, and that it gives him a purpose outside of just existing. And for that, he’s grateful. 

*

Hugs from his Nana never fail to bring him an immediate feeling of comfort. It’s unlike anything else in the entire world, and Dan knows he’ll never get enough of the feeling. 

“Sit down,” she says when they’ve broken apart and she leads Dan into the kitchen. “I’ll make you a cup of tea.” 

He does as he’s told while she puts on the kettle and takes out two mugs. 

“So,” she says when she joins him at the table to wait for the water to boil. “You have some important news to tell me?” 

Dan feels all the blood drain from his face. He’s been in Wokingham for all of five minutes—enough to say hi to Mum, drop his shit, and then come here—and he’s already been found out. He expected to spend the entire Easter weekend on edge, waiting for the right moment to drop the bomb that is far too overdue, but somehow she’s found out. 

He’s had his mind on accomplishing the one big project he set out to do over a year ago now before it gets too late and he misses his chance again. Running is, perhaps, a good distraction from that project. Something else to turn into a big story of overcoming fear and obstacles. It helps that he gets to be something other than himself when he runs, that running is able to be a liminal space where everything outside of his immediate surroundings and state are put on hold.

He’s not ready. He’s going to chicken out on coming out _again_ and it’s going to be a whole fucking process and he’s only got just over a month left until June and _he’s not fucking ready_. 

And somehow Nana knows, and of course she knows when he’s not ready, when he knows he needs to get this thing out of the way because he’s running out of time and next week he’s supposed to run a bloody marathon and—_fuck_. 

He can barely breathe, can barely control his thoughts. 

“Daniel?” _Fuck_. 

“Right,” He takes a breath in, knowing his voice sounds shaky. “Important news?” 

The kettle goes off and she chuckles, getting up to fix their tea. Dan feels like his throat is full of cotton. 

“Already forgotten? That’s not a good sign!” 

“W-what?” 

“You’re running a marathon next week? Surely you’ve got to be bursting to tell me about how that’s going. Or is it not taking your fancy anymore?”

He feels like someone dumped a bucket of cold water over his head. Running. _Of course_. The feeling of hysteria bubbles up in his chest, and he wishes he could laugh away his ridiculousness. Fuck. Talk about paranoid. 

He allows himself a small laugh, at least. “Yeah Grandma, I’m doing that next week.”

She tells him she’s proud of him. She does that a lot, but that doesn’t make it mean any less. Part of him wonders if she would actually say the same thing if he came out to her in this moment. He tries to push that away, but it lingers, bleeding into the cushy feeling that the unwavering support for running from his family has given him.

Dan spends the rest of the Easter holiday trying to run off the panic, and the way failure seems to settle into his bones. He didn’t do what he set out to do. Again. 

But when his mum wakes him up to go on a run with her before the town really has a chance to wake up, he forgets about the feeling. She looks happy, and despite all the other shit, he couldn’t ask for anything better. 

*

The feeling of failure never really seems to leave Dan when he arrives back in London. It weighs down on him from the moment he wakes up to the seconds before sleep takes over. 

On Friday night, two days before the marathon, Dan sits on the edge of their bed and listens to Phil brush his teeth. 

“You’re on my side of the bed,” Phil says when he steps out of the ensuite, smiling. 

Dan is. He also has his phone unlocked in his hand, open to a draft of an email. Phil’s smile drops as he takes Dan in fully. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“I can’t run on Sunday.” 

Phil sits down next to him. He rests a hand on his forearm, sitting in silence until Dan is ready to continue. 

“I didn’t train for long enough,” he starts, speaking barely above a whisper. “I—I used running to escape. I couldn’t even fucking come out to my family this weekend again. And they’re so _proud_. It’s been—well, you know. It’s been a long time since I set out to do something like this and to have them just be there.” 

He waves the hand with his phone in it. “I wrote an email, to Young Minds, explaining things.”

Phil gently takes the phone from Dan, reading as Dan breathes a shaky breath out. 

“I feel like I’ve failed. Like I’ve done all that for nothing. Like, fuck, like this was my inevitable ending anyway. How many times have I done this before? And I’m just going to repeat it again next month because I can’t handle coming out and—” 

“You didn’t fail,” Phil locks his phone and puts it down on the bed, meeting Dan’s gaze. “If anyone thinks you failed, you don’t need them in your life. Dan, I watched you push yourself for _months_, I watched you exhaust yourself to do something good, something so selfless.” 

He grabs his hands. “I don’t have the answers, but I know you didn’t fail. And I know it’s going to be hard to get over this, but you didn’t fail. You worked so hard. None of that is gone because you can’t take the final step.”

Dan nods. He knows he’s right, just like he knows the words won’t sink in for a good while. 

“How am I going to tell everyone, Phil?” 

He shrugs. “You do it in your own time, and I’ll be right beside you when you need me.”

They sit together for a while, only moving to let Dan send the email before it gets too late and then to crawl under the covers. 

Phil talks. He talks all night, even though Dan’s pretty sure some of it was sleep talking. 

Dan listens. He replies when he wants to, but mostly he just watches Phil talk. 

Eventually Phil’s eyelids fall shut and don’t open again, and Dan watches his lips move, listens to the sounds coming from his mouth just become deep hums until he’s asleep. 

The room is lighter than it was when they first started talking. The sun’s about to rise, and Dan realises he was able to spend the whole night outside of his head, in this state between spiraling and just being _Dan_. He didn’t get a chance to think because Phil didn’t let him, and now he’s too fucking wiped to even attempt to form a proper thought. 

He won’t feel good when he wakes up, he knows that for a fact. But waking up in that state is better than being stuck in it for the whole night. He leans forward to press a kiss to Phil’s temple, grateful, to have him beside him and to be able to settle against the pillows and immediately feel himself drifting into a deep sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> title taken from lua by bright eyes. (alt title: 'nook's cranny' from the animal crossing soundtrack)
> 
> you can like/reblog this on [tumblr](https://obsessivelymoody.tumblr.com/post/187250090532/all-the-reasons-have-run-away-but-the-feeling) if you want.


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